


Seasons

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Series: Dog Days of Summer [31]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: dogdaysofsummer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-31
Updated: 2005-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This thing between us," they still have no name for it; it is too big and too strong and too delicate for naming, "will never be over."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seasons

It was Indian Summer;  
light wolves and dark wolves howled through the day --

It was Indian Summer  
and a snake shed its skin.

Then, and only then, was I properly  
human.  
\--Alma Luz Villanueva, INDIAN SUMMER RITUAL

*

Sirius rushes headlong from day to day, ignoring the steady passage of time, the subtle loss of daylight minutes as autumn creeps closer and the summer draws to an end.

Remus always sees the end in the distance, like the moon rising over the horizon, inevitable. He's used to inevitable, inexorable forces in his life--the moon, Sirius, time. Love.

Love, he knows, is inexorable, and love, he also knows, ends. People fall out of love all the time, the same way they fall in, like a wave that sweeps them out into the ocean and then deposits them on some distant shore, and it's never quite possible to know if you're the one who has changed or if the only thing different is your place in time, in space.

He says none of this to Sirius, who wouldn't believe it anyway. Sirius believes in love, in passion, in six impossible things before breakfast, because he's Sirius, and the world reshapes itself around him.

Remus believes in inexorability, and he believes in endings, even though his own life is a never-ending circle mapped out by the moon. He's tried to live every moment this summer, to imprint them all on his mind, his body, his skin. He wants Sirius's kisses to leave scars, Sirius's touches to brand him, mark him so that everyone will be able to see that once, someone loved him, once, _Sirius_ loved him, even if he's sure that tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express, the journey back to school means the journey back to being alone, instead of being together. It is leaving the summer behind and with it, everything they've said and done, nights spent in the sticky, sweaty sheets of this bed or that, at his house, at James's, at Sirius's flat, and days spent romping through sea and sand and grass and mud will fade into sepia-toned memories that Remus will cherish and Sirius will laugh about someday, if he even remembers.

He's tetchy, irritable, even though the weather has been gorgeous all day and since it's going on dinnertime, they have the beach to themselves. He shrugs off Sirius's touch, knowing he'll regret it later, regret not savoring those last caresses before he loses them completely.

Sirius shows remarkable patience with him, but as the sun begins to sink to the horizon, turning the sea into an ocean of fire, Sirius's tolerance runs out.

He pins Remus down on the sand, holding his wrists over his head. Remus feels like a lamb laid out for the slaughter, like Isaac on the altar waiting patiently for Abraham. He feels like _prey_ , and he is not used to that anymore.

He bucks up, but Sirius is heavier and is used to fighting dirty. Remus turns his face away, uncaring that sand is sticking to his cheek, his lips.

"Look at me, Remus."

"I can't," he chokes out. "I can't."

"Why can't you?" Sirius asks sharply.

"I--" Words, his friends for so many years, long before Sirius and James and Peter, desert him, and he's left with nothing but the press of Sirius's body against his, as strong a force as gravity, holding him to the earth when he feels he may slip off.

"Remus, please." Sirius's voice is low, and his hands are gentle when he cups Remus's face, brushing the sand from his skin.

Remus closes his eyes, lets himself sag against the damp sand beneath his back. "Summer's ending."

"Oh." Sirius stands and Remus finds himself free of the weight he wishes would press on him forever. Now he won't even get to have this last night he wanted so badly, and it's his own fault. If it were happening to someone else, he'd be amused by the irony, but it's cutting too close to the bone, and he doesn't think he can stand it.

Sirius is shrugging out of his bathing trunks and when Remus makes no move to follow, Sirius shoves his down for him, as well.

"Come on," Sirius says, grabbing his hand again and pulling him towards the water.

"What--"

"Summer's ending," Sirius says, "which means that autumn is beginning. The rituals must be observed."

"What rituals?" Remus attempts to ask, but they are in the water now, and Sirius is swimming away, lithe body cutting through the water like a knife. Remus follows in his wake and when he reaches him, he asks again, "What rituals?"

Sirius doesn't answer, or at least, he doesn't answer with words. He wraps his body around Remus, legs and arms, so they are chest to chest, groin to groin, and pulls Remus close for a turbulent, desperate kiss that tastes of salt and cold and promises that he can't possibly mean. Sirius moves and Remus responds, moaning into his mouth, giving himself over to the ocean, to Sirius, to the end of summer.

They're not paying enough attention to the water and it tumbles them off their feet, and then spits them back out onto the sand. Sirius lands on top of him and keeps moving, keeps demanding Remus's response, until something in him shatters and he comes white-hot and wet over their bodies. He's barely aware that Sirius has also come, and that now Sirius is murmuring things in his ear, things that sound like promises, blessings, gifts.

"Did you think this would end because summer did?" Sirius demands, his voice fierce, his breath hot against Remus's skin. "This thing between us," they still have no name for it; it is too big and too strong and too delicate for naming, "will never be over." His words have all the grandeur of a prophecy, all the weight of a curse, and they ring with the echoing power of the truth.

Remus pulls him down for another hungry, frantic, seeking kiss and Sirius gives it to him, gives him all the reassurance he has been unable to ask for in the slide of tongue and cock and fingers.

The sun dips below the horizon, and the fiery sky slowly cools to twilight. Summer is ending, but autumn will begin soon, and Remus now realizes they are reborn with every change, with every season.

*


End file.
